


Scent of a Woman

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: How will Will handle this news, M/M, Post Fall, TWO IDIOTS, Using your words gets you stabbed less, Will is ready to bone, calmly and not with a knife, crack and fluff, probably, too bad Hanners is seeing someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.





	Scent of a Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Запах женщины](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232808) by [ViEwaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViEwaz/pseuds/ViEwaz)



> As always, I would like to offer Gwilbers all my love for patiently reading through this complete and utter crack.

          Will sat in front of the fire, nursing his whiskey and contemplating the ways he would kill Hannibal Lecter.

          He smiled. Some things, apparently, never changed.

          Will took another pull from the glass, watching as the flames consumed another piece of birch and cursing every choice he’d made since tipping Hannibal and himself into the sea. He’d chosen to pull Hannibal from the water when he surfaced and the doctor hadn’t. He’d chosen to beat on Hannibal’s chest, threats and pleas spilling from his lips as he sought mercy from any god he could think of. He’d chosen to break into that little pharmacy in North Carolina, bashing the clerk in the skull and fleeing with all the medicine and first aid kits he could carry. He’d chosen to stitch up his wounds himself, sewing a scarecrow smile onto his face haphazardly so he could focus on Hannibal’s injuries. He’d chosen to spend long nights watching as Hannibal’s pallor grew, holding the doctor’s hand when the fever nearly took him twice.

          He’d made every choice so carefully. Calculating for the chance, the fleeting promise that somewhere, someway there was peace for them in the future.

          What Will hadn’t counted on was Hannibal making choices of his own.

          First, Hannibal had chosen a safe house with two bedrooms. Then, he’d chosen to reveal their identities – as business associates. There had been months of dinners, formal affairs with plenty of philosophical debate and absolutely no footsie at the table. When Will got drunk and blurted out that he missed sex, Hannibal had chosen to let the empath wake up alone, with a glass of water and a two aspirin as his only consolation.

          He’d made his peace with Hannibal’s choices, at least Will thought he had. But the most recent one was making him debate fishing the doctor from the frigid waters of the Atlantic.

          Hannibal was choosing to go out at night. At first, Will thought he might be hunting. But when Hannibal returned, he made no mention of a new target for their table. Will had waited in the study, fire still stoked and body tense as Hannibal crossed the foyer to hang up his coat and scarf. He ducked his head into the room briefly, offering Will a wan smile.

          “I find myself rather spent, if you don’t mind, I’ll see you in the morning.”

          He was gone before Will could answer, but something churned in the empath's gut. Hannibal always read by the fire before bed. He always asked Will about his day. Something else was wrong, and Will closed his eyes to focus on what had made his blood run cold.

          It was the hair.

          Hannibal’s hair had fallen into his eyes, little tufts sticking up in the back. There was no wind to ruffle the strands, which meant someone’s hands had likely been through the carefully gelled coif. God, he hoped Hannibal had been in a fight. Will was moving before he finished the thought, running to the foyer to scent Hannibal’s coat and scarf like a dog. He prayed for the scent of blood or viscera, something, anything, other than the picture his mind had begun constructing. There was no coppery tang of blood in the air, just the light scent of jasmine.

          The delicate aroma choked Will.  

          Perfume.

          The exact perfume someone like Bedelia would choose to spray delicately on her hair and décolletage. The type of perfume Hannibal probably inhaled when he was fucking Alana. A scent that would never belong on someone with scruffy curls and a five o’clock shadow.  

          The scent grew stronger in the following week as Hannibal’s appearance grew more disheveled. He went out almost every night, returning later and later with his clothes in disarray and a small, tired smile on his face.

          “Don’t go out tonight,” Will mumbled over coffee one morning, the steam from the mug camouflaging the heat in his cheeks.

          “Why?” Hannibal didn’t look up from the newspaper. Will felt himself heat further.

          He wouldn’t beg. He’d kill them all before he begged.

          “The late nights are taking a toll. You look old,” Will spat, leaving just as Hannibal deemed to regard him over the edge of the paper.

          Will began to scour Hannibal’s laundry for clues. He found smears of lipstick on Hannibal’s shirts - fine tears at the seams of the sleeves made my pointed, feminine nails, no doubt. One jacket had what looked to be teeth marks in the shoulder.

          Will boiled with rage. Hannibal had ruined him and saved him, only to throw him away for some jasmine-scented chippy with snaggle teeth.

          Something had to be done.

          So now, Will sat in the study, the warmth of the fire eluding him as he considered one question: _What would Hannibal do?_

Will touched a hand to his head, fingers seeking out the puckered line on his forehead. He flexed his abs just to feel the smile Hannibal had given him stretch. Hannibal had been very clear when it came to matters of the love – if you hesitated in offering your heart, it would be cut from your body.               

* * *

 

          The tracker had been easier to plant than Will expected. Hannibal had spent the afternoon primping in the bathroom for his jasmine-scented harpy, affording Will plenty of time to slip the small tile under the passenger-side floor-mat.

          Will checked the app on his phone, the signal was good.

          Now, all he had to do was wait.

          When Hannibal breezed out the door, Will offered him a small wave from the study. He listened for the car and then sprang from his chair. Pulling on a pair of running shoes, Will paused by the knife block in the kitchen. A butcher knife seemed too flashy, but Will had a point to make. He chose a boning knife, something elegant, but capable of leaving a scar, just like the man he intended to mark. He was fairly certain he’d let Hannibal survive the night, but he was still debating carving _WILL_ into the doctor’s forehead.

          Will checked his phone and frowned. The tracker showed that Hannibal’s car was stopped a few streets over. Will tapped his phone, then tried refreshing the GPS connection. The dot didn’t move.

          Either Hannibal was banging a bored housewife in the neighborhood, or Will would be leaving a very angry one-star review on Amazon.

          Frowning at his phone, Will opened the kitchen door and walked into the yard. If he cut through the woods, he could be at Hannibal’s location in minutes. He tested the weight of the boning knife as brush pulled at his clothes.

          When he reached a clearing, Will kept to the brambles, peering into a sleepy cul-de-sac. Two houses were being built, and one seemed vacant, but Hannibal’s car was parked at the mouth of the development, under a streetlight.

          Will squinted when he saw movement in the car. He expected to see two bodies entwined as windows heated, but instead, he saw Hannibal, very much alone, adjusting a book.

          Careful to stay in the shadows of the tree line, Will crept closer to the car. Hannibal’s window was down, the cool night air ruffling the pages of his book. Will made sure to keep downwind of the cannibal – it wouldn’t do to be spotted before Hannibal’s paramour arrived.

          Will settled into the brush and waited.

          And waited.

          After nearly three hours of watching Hannibal serenely read, Will was fucking confused. Did Hannibal not like reading by the fire with him? Was this book something he didn’t want Will to know he read? Was Hannibal a secret _Fifty Shades of Grey_ fan?

          Will was roused from his thoughts by an alarm. Startled, Will stilled his body. Hannibal had taught him the proper response to a loud noise while stalking was abject stillness. Will used that advice now, taking slow quiet breaths and controlling his heartbeat as he watched Hannibal turn off his phone’s alarm.

          With a yawn, Hannibal got out of the car. The doctor sat his book on the driver’s seat and reached into the back, pulling out a leather toiletries bag. Setting the bag on the roof of the car, Hannibal took a moment to stretch, arms wide, neck rolling. Once properly limber, Hannibal sunk his hands into his hair and began ruffling the gelled strands. He pulled his bangs down first, then began scrunching little tufts up in the back. When he was finished, he looked as though his head had been in a windstorm.

          Hair in a terrible state, Hannibal opened the leather bag. The glass bottle he pulled from its depths caught the streetlight, gleaming as Hannibal raised it to his neck and began to spray. The scent of jasmine floated toward Will on the breeze.  

          Will knew his mouth was open. Jasmine tainted air coated his tongue as he watched Hannibal apply a spritz to his groin before slipping the bottle back in the bag.

          He watched as Hannibal tucked and untucked his shirt, adjusting the angle to the exact level of debauchery wanted. The doctor opened his shirt, making sure to skip over one of the buttons as he fastened it together again. He fiddled with his belt until it looked hastily fastened.

          Rummaging in the bag, Hannibal fished out a plastic packet.

          Will watched in awe as Dr. Hannibal Lecter, serial killer and the toast of Baltimore society, carefully applied press on nails to his right hand. When the nails were set, Hannibal raked his nails along his left sleeve, letting them catch the delicate material. Will blinked when he heard the snag and tear. Hannibal looked down at his chest for a moment, considering. With a small purse of his lips he wrapped his arm around himself, dragging the nails across his back. With nimble fingers, he plucked the acrylic nails from his hands, safely storing them back in the packet.

          When he was satisfied with his artfully disheveled appearance, Hannibal dug into his kit again, producing a gold tube. The cannibal pulled off the top and Will had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. Hannibal applied the bright red lipstick to his bottom lip, before lifting his collar to brush some of the color onto the fine shirt. When he was satisfied with the mark, he rubbed the rest from his lip, smearing his chin with the color. He almost looked bloody in the moonlight, and Will thought back to how red his lips had been when Hannibal tore into the Dragon’s neck and swallowed him whole.

          The doctor retrieved a large hand mirror from his kit, studying the picture he made. He looked as though he was debating another swipe or two of lipstick when Will turned on his heel and retreated into the brush.

          Will knew he should be angry.

          He should be furious.

          And yet…

_I am careful not to make a show of leaving, seeming almost furtive as a go. I calculate exactly how much provocation will be needed to get the reaction I want. I am not interested in wounded looks or hurt feelings. I am interested in rage - possessive fury from one monster to another. If Will won’t allow me to woo him, then I demand he claim me instead. This is my design._

          Will could feel the grin stretching his face as he raced back to the house. Yes, it was the textbook manipulation that always annoyed Will, but there was something undeniably sweet about it. Hannibal hadn’t given up on him. He’d just bought some perfume and tried again.

          Will slipped in through the kitchen door, toeing off his shoes carefully on Hannibal’s precious shoe mat, and replacing the boning knife in Hannibal’s block. He tapped his lip. Hannibal had worked so hard to elicit a jealous rage in Will, it would be a shame not to give it to him…

          Hannibal would be back in a few minutes, Will needed to move fast. He pushed Hannibal’s fruit basket off the kitchen counter, letting a mango roll into the foyer. The floral arrangement on the table was the next to go. Will had always hated that vase and he took great delight throwing it into the hideous Ledo painting that Hannibal had acquired at some godforsaken antiques store in Santiago. Finally, Will grabbed a tumbler and filled it with Hannibal’s best whiskey. Dipping his fingers into the glass, he flicked some of the liquor onto his shirt and face, enough to make the smell strong, before taking a pull from the glass and gargling.

          He spat the whiskey into the kitchen sink as he heard the lock turn in the door. He took a moment to form a scowl, it wouldn’t do to smile, and make his body loose-limbed. He leaned against the counter and waited.

          An elegant hand picked up the mango. Hannibal walked into the kitchen with a frown. “Will?”

          “Where the fuck have you been?” Will lurched forward, stumbling slightly as he approached Hannibal.

          “I was out, with a friend.” Hannibal’s eyes grew bright as he watched Will’s performance.

          “You don’t have friends.”

          “I have one, obviously.” A small smile curled at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. Will threw his glass at the doctor’s head just to knock it off his face. Hannibal dodged, surging forward to grab Will’s wrist.

          “You’re drunk.”

          “You fucking stink,” Will hissed, grabbing Hannibal by the hair and wrenching his head back. There was a small abrasion at the base of Hannibal’s throat, and Will wondered how the fuck he’d managed to give himself a hickey.

          “I didn’t know you object to the scent of jasmine.” Hannibal sounded unbearably smug, but Will resisted the urge to smile.

          “I object to you coming home smelling like your whore.” Will snarled, pulling at Hannibal’s collar and pressing his fingers into the hickey. “Letting her mark you.”

          “What’s to be done about it, Will?”

          The empath ducked his head to hide his smile. God, Hannibal was impossible when he wanted to be.

          “I’m going to clean you up.” Will’s fingers tightened in Hannibal’s hair. He marched the cannibal up the stairs, Hannibal offered no resistance. He caught the doctor smiling triumphantly as they passed the hall mirror. Will moved quickly past his own room, kicking open Hannibal’s bedroom door and heading toward the bathroom.

          Will shoved Hannibal into the walk-in shower and turned the water on.

          “Will!” Hannibal plastered himself against the wall, trying to avoid the spray on his shoes and fine pants.

          Will leaned against the door of the shower. “You should have thought about your fancy fucking clothes before she ruined them, Hannibal. Strip.”

          Hannibal watched Will for a moment, his eyes glittering, before he stepped into the shower spray. He undid his shirt slowly, letting the sodden fabric fall to the tile. The doctor maintained eye contact as he toed out of his shoes and socks.

          Will tried to control his breathing. He hadn’t really seen Hannibal naked since their wounds had healed, and he had missed the sight keenly. He flexed his fingers behind him, resisting the urge to touch, to worship, it wouldn’t do to break character now.

          When Hannibal stepped out of his wet pants, Will allowed himself a scan of his cannibal's body. He bit his lip to keep from laughing when he noticed Hannibal had given himself a hickey just over his hipbone. Will grabbed a loofah and tossed it to Hannibal. “Scrub.”

          Hannibal soaped himself in lazy circles, letting the water sluice the suds from his body as he turned, giving Will a show. The empath noticed Hannibal’s cock thickening between his legs as he worked. It was more than Will could bear. He stepped forward, grabbing the loofah from Hannibal’s hands.

          He rubbed over Hannibal’s body, feeling the firm flesh beneath his fingers as he worked. Soon, Will abandoned the loofah, letting it fall to the tile with Hannibal’s ruined clothes. He dragged his nails through the soapy fur on Hannibal’s chest, leaving little red trails through the suds. Will’s fingers dug into the muscles of Hannibal’s back, massaging until he felt the muscles go loose beneath his hands.

          Hannibal turned, eyes bright and mouth parted, studying Will intently. He was fully hard now, his cock pressing against the wet denim on Will’s hip. Will took a steadying breath, his fingers moving to the hickey on Hannibal’s neck.

          “You can’t remove that with soap, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was barely a whisper.

          Will raised his eyebrow at the challenge, before latching onto the base of Hannibal’s throat and sucking. Hannibal gasped softly, pushing into Will’s mouth. His arms wound around the empath, grinding himself against Will’s thigh. Will sucked and bit at Hannibal’s throat, Hannibal trembling beneath his hands.

          When Will released him, Hannibal looked dazed. “Where else did she touch you, Hannibal?”

          Hannibal panted under the shower spray, Will wanted to lick the rivulets from his cheeks. He wanted to curl into this ridiculous man and tell him just how stupid they both were for not doing this the moment they met. But that wasn’t Hannibal’s design.

          “Hannibal,” Will grabbed at the cannibal’s throat, pressing his thumb into the livid mark he’d sucked into the skin. “Where else did she touch you?”

          Hannibal blinked, water dripping from his brow as he tried to process the words. “Wherever you’re willing to touch.”

          Will spun Hannibal toward the shower door, turning the water off. He slapped Hannibal’s ass, relishing the sound. “Get on the fucking bed. Don’t dry off.”

          Hannibal moved immediately, leaving a trail of watery footprints across his precious reclaimed wood floors. Will took a few moments to look at himself in the mirror. He let himself smile, a big goofy grin that sank his scar into his cheek and crinkled his eyes. He ran a hand over his chin, pressing his smile into his palm. When he heard the mattress creak, Will schooled his expression into barely contained fury.

          Tugging his soaked t-shirt over his head, Will stomped into the bedroom. Hannibal sat primly on the bed, his dripping hair soaking into the headboard, ankles crossed. Though his face was carefully neutral, Will could see the smug gleam in Hannibal’s eyes. Will would let him have his little victory, if it meant having Hannibal.

          He grabbed both of Hannibal’s ankles, yanking him toward the foot of the bed. Will thrilled at the genuine shock he was able to pull from Hannibal as he roughly climbed between his legs. Caging Hannibal’s head between his arms, Will allowed his weight to fall onto the doctor. Hannibal rolled his hips into the pressure, seeking friction from the wet jeans pressing on him.

          Will grabbed a handful of Hannibal’s soaked hair and yanked, snarling when Hannibal rolled his hips again. “You don’t fucking move. You hear me?”

          Hannibal’s hips stilled. Will pulled harder on the hair, making Hannibal’s lip curl. “Answer me.”

          “Yes, Will.” Hannibal watched Will with curious eyes.

          “Did you think I would allow this?” Will sneered. “How long did you think I’d allow you to come home smelling of perfume?”

          “Three years.” Hannibal’s eyes shone as his lips curled.

          “What?” Will’s grip faltered. Hannibal surged up, just enough to bring his face to Will’s.

          “For three years I allowed Alana to taunt me with updates about your family. Details of your wedding. How happy you looked with your false son. Her guesses as to when you and the little woman would start trying for your own.” Hannibal laid back on the bed, mouth thin as his jaw worked, chewing over the bitter memories. “I endured it all without hesitation. When you returned, you smelled of your loathsome cologne, yes. But worse than your seafaring cologne – you smelled of Dove soap and drugstore face cream.”

          Will moved his hand to Hannibal’s jaw. He meant to grip his chin with angry fingers, but couldn’t make himself. Instead he stroked softly over Hannibal’s skin, eyes fond.

          “So, this jasmine-laced tart was my reckoning?”

          Hannibal’s eyes lowered, his chin fell solidly into Will’s hand. “A reminder, of how easily one’s scent can alter.”

          All of Will’s elaborate plans of jealousy-fueled sex were crushed under the weight of Hannibal’s admission. He let the mask slip from his face as he examined the man below him, allowing himself to be vulnerable at the most inconvenient times.

          “You crazy son of a bitch,” Will muttered, dipping his head to press a light kiss to Hannibal’s mouth.

          Hannibal’s lips parted in surprise. “You’re not angry.”

          Will shook his head. Hannibal squinted.

          “No.” Will kissed Hannibal again, soft, seeking. He began rolling his hips until Hannibal relented and started moving with him.

          “You were furious when I returned home.” Hannibal’s voice was thin, Will watched as the doctor dug his head into the mattress, arching his neck.

          “I was.” Will ducked down to lick along Hannibal’s carotid, tasting the rapid pulse that lay just beneath the skin.

          Hannibal’s hands fell to Will’s hips, stilling him. “I’ve never known you to forgive so easily.”

          Will caught Hannibal’s eyes, letting the contact hold for a moment.

          “You never wanted to smell like jasmine, Hannibal. You only ever wanted to smell like me.” Will smiled, his thumbs stroked Hannibal’s cheeks. He thought about mentioning the ruse, trying to tease, but something flickering in Hannibal’s eyes stopped him. He leaned down to rub his cheek against Hannibal’s, enjoying the scratch of his stubble against the doctor’s smooth skin. “It’s forgotten, like she never existed.”

          Hannibal tugged at Will’s jeans, shoving until the wet material fell to the empath’s thighs. With a few kicks, Will had them off, the soaked material landing with a wet thud on the floor. If he didn’t move them soon, they would soak into the wood and warp it. Will found he rather liked the idea of their house bearing scars of their love just like their bodies did.

          Will took Hannibal’s mouth again, sucking on the doctor’s lower lip as he felt their wet skin slide together. Hannibal clawed at Will, nails digging into soft flesh in an attempt to meld them closer. Slotted between Hannibal’s thighs, Will shifted until his cock aligned with Hannibal’s. The next roll of his hips had both men groaning.

          Will moved to suck on the delicate flesh below Hannibal’s ear, bringing his hand to rest over the doctor’s mouth. Hannibal licked the palm pressing over his lips and keened when Will moved it to wrap around both their cocks.

          As Hannibal fucked his hand, the feeling of his cannibal sliding against him became overwhelming. Will began biting. Little crescent marks formed on the column of Hannibal’s throat, one for every moan Will drew from Hannibal. The doctor’s nails had sunk into the meat of Will’s ass, drawing the empath closer with every thrust. There would be blood stains along his flesh in the morning.

          Will hoped they scarred.

          Will dragged his teeth along Hannibal’s throat to breathe in his ear. “No more jasmine. Only blood and food and me.”

          “Yes.” Hannibal clenched his hands, his thrusts stuttering.

          Will’s grip tightened, he could feel the pressure building in his balls. It wouldn’t be long. “Say it, Hannibal. Say it for me.”

          “Only you.” Hannibal choked, his cock throbbing as it thrust against Will’s palm. “I only want you.”

          Will pressed his face to Hannibal’s skull, drawing great gluts of Hannibal’s scent into his lungs. Salt, sandalwood and sex – it was almost the perfect scent.

          “Come on,” Will gritted as he thrust harder against Hannibal. He was losing his rhythm as he grew closer to release. “Mark me, then.”

          Hannibal’s mouth found Will’s shoulder, biting hard as he came in long, shuddering thrusts. Will pressed into the jagged mouth clamped on his shoulder, finally coming when he felt the skin break. The sharp aroma of copper found Will’s nose as he gasped, face still buried behind Hannibal’s ear. This was what he always wanted his cannibal to smell like – bathed in blood and passion for all eternity.

          After a few ragged breaths through his nose, Hannibal finally released Will’s shoulder. He offered the mangled flesh there a lick before allowing his head to fall back onto the mattress. Will watched the man stretch out like a great cat beneath him, sated and utterly relaxed.

          With a tilt of his head, Will released their cocks, pausing to drag his hand through their come. His found himself smiling, slowly rubbing their spend into Hannibal’s stomach and chest. The doctor arched into the touch, his eyes shining and his mouth curved.

          “We should clean this up.”

          “In a moment.”

          Will brought his hand to Hannibal’s mouth, his breath catching when the doctor lapped at the soiled fingers. His cock gave a painful lurch, trying to fill again. The doctor raised his brow at the sight. “I wonder how long it would take to coax you back to hardness, using just my teeth and tongue?”

          Will moved off the bed with a sigh, holding out his clean hand for Hannibal. “I’m too old to play that game for at least another hour, Hannibal. Come on, let’s clean up and go to bed, we can play it in the morning.”

          Hannibal smiled, stepping over the wet pile of denim on the floor as he allowed Will to lead him to the bathroom.

* * *

 

          Will found that ergonomically, Hannibal Lecter was an excellent pillow. The soft pelt of hair that wrapped over his chest made a snuggly but firm place to rest his head, with just enough neck support.

          As Will settled, twining his arms around Hannibal’s middle and nuzzling into place, he took a moment to tilt his head up and regard the man he’d spend the rest of his life with.

          Smug didn’t begin to cover it.

          Hannibal was practically radiating self-satisfaction: Eyes blissfully closed, edges of his mouth curled at the perfect supercilious angle. His right hand was embedded in Will’s hair, stroking softly through damp curls as if he were quieting a beloved pet, which he might actually think he was doing. Even his breathing was deep and profoundly arrogant. He’d made a plan and it had executed flawlessly.

          “So…” Will tapped his fingers innocently on Hannibal’s soft middle. “You’re done with jasmine, right?”

          Hannibal opened his eyes and lifted his giant crazy brain off the bed to offer Will a terrible rendition of sincere remorse. “You’ll never know the anguish I feel that I put you through that Will. I promise I’ll never leave your side again.”

          “Good,” Will offered Hannibal an innocent smile. “It was only a matter of time before one of the neighbors saw you spraying yourself with perfume and rubbing lipstick on your clothes. I’d hate to kill the whole development."

          Hannibal’s superior smirk thinned into a mere line of flesh clenched between teeth.

          “Careful,” Will raised his hand to tap on Hannibal’s mouth where his lips should be. “You bite them too hard and you’ll lose them. I’d hate to have to start calling you Chilton.”

          Hannibal’s lips reemerged as he snarled, snapping his teeth at Will’s finger. Will evaded him easily, smile growing wide. “I think my favorite touch was the nails. We could get manicures together! I had to leave before you made the hickies, though. How’d you do that? Sandpaper? Did you have a little vacuum in that case?”

          Suddenly, Will’s perfect snuggly pillow had turned to stone. It was also pushing him off the bed. “I think perhaps you’d be more comfortable in your own room tonight.”

          Will latched onto Hannibal’s middle holding on for dear life. “You’d think that, but your mattress is more comfortable.”

          “Then I’ll allow you to enjoy it by yourself,” Hannibal managed to free himself from Will’s octopus limbs, flopping out of the bed with absolutely no grace. Will tried to hide his laugh, but when Hannibal’s head finally popped back up over the mattress, eyes blazing, Will knew he hadn’t muffled the noise quite well enough.

          Hannibal stood, taking a moment to run his hand through his sex hair before walking, straight-backed and completely naked, toward the door. Will let him march, marveling that a man could maintain so much dignity while his cock flopped back and forth in time with his gait.

          When Hannibal got to the door, Will sighed, kicking off the covers and stretching his naked body across Hannibal’s bed.

          “Fine, leave,” he called. Hannibal turned on his heel to regard Will with a cool eye. “I’ll just rub my neck with sandpaper for beard burn and spray cologne all over the house, that seems to work wonders.”

          Will grinned, his scar stretching his cheek. Hannibal snarled, darting toward the bed and pinning Will to the mattress with alarming force.

          Will’s smile never faltered.

          Hannibal lowered his face to Will’s, sharp teeth glinting in the low light. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

          Will raised an eyebrow. “Too jealous?”

          “No,” Hannibal’s snarl smoothed into a toothy grin. “Just intimately acquainted with your horrible taste in cologne.”

          Will threw his head back, laughter filling the room. Hannibal kissed him quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this started as a joke concept I had about the lengths Hannibal would go to in order to get Will's attention. And then it ended with this piece of abject nonsense. This is what comes from messaging me, people, blame yourselves.


End file.
